The Labyrinth stretched before them like the gaping maw of a forgotten beast — endless, twisting, suffocating.
The air hung thick with damp earth, the scent of moss, and the metallic tang of ancient magic bleeding into every crevice.
He moved carefully, every step echoing softly against stone walls carved with the city's lost history.
His fingers traced the faded symbols etched deep in the rock — silent voices from a time when the city was whole.
Lira followed close, blade ready but eyes sharp — she had learned to trust the silence as much as the noise in these tunnels.
"The deeper we go," she whispered, "the more the city's soul bleeds through."
He nodded, feeling the weight of Sylva's words settling like a stone in his chest.
The seed pulsed against his skin, its rhythm syncing with his heartbeat, a reminder that he was no longer just a man — but the fracture's reluctant guardian.
They reached a vast chamber where roots broke through the cracked stone like veins beneath flesh.
At its center lay a pool of black water, still and bottomless.
Sylva knelt at the edge, her fingers skimming the surface.
"This is the Vein Pool," she said softly.
"A reservoir of the city's memories — both light and shadow."
He leaned over, watching as faint ripples distorted the dark surface.
Images flickered: flickering streets, faces of lost loved ones, moments of joy and despair intertwined.
Suddenly, the water shimmered violently.
He stumbled back as a figure emerged — translucent, shimmering like a ghost born of water and memory.
A woman's face appeared — serene yet sorrowful, eyes that spoke of centuries of pain.
"I am Eira," the apparition said, voice echoing like a breeze through leaves.
"I was the city's keeper before the fracture."
He stared, heart pounding.
"What happened?
Why did the city break?"
Eira's gaze pierced him, ancient grief bleeding into her voice.
"Greed poisoned the roots.
Fear shattered the bonds.
The fracture was born from betrayal — a wound that never truly healed."
He swallowed hard, the weight of responsibility crushing him anew.
"Can it be fixed?"
Eira's form flickered, a fragile smile on her lips.
"Perhaps.
But the cost is greater than you know."
Suddenly, a deafening roar shook the chamber.
From the shadows, twisted creatures poured forth — malformed, born of shadow and root.
They moved with unnatural speed, their eyes glowing with hunger.
Lira raised her blade, stance ready.
"We don't have a choice."
The battle erupted — fierce and brutal.
He felt the seed flare, roots bursting from his skin, entwining with the creatures, crushing and binding.
Lira moved like a whirlwind, her blade singing through the air, cutting through shadow and flesh.
But the creatures were relentless — waves crashing against their fragile stand.
One lunged at him, claws rending flesh and stone.
Pain exploded across his arm, but he summoned the seed's power, roots bursting like steel chains, dragging the creature down.
Breath ragged, he scanned the chamber — more creatures surged forward.
Eira's voice echoed in his mind:
"The fracture feeds on fear and doubt. Stand firm."
Summoning all his strength, he centered himself.
The seed's pulse grew steady and strong — no longer chaotic but controlled, like a living rhythm beneath his skin.
Roots erupted from the floor, weaving a barrier, pushing back the darkness.
Lira shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos.
"Now! Push them back!"
Together, they pressed forward, the shadowed beasts falling beneath their combined fury.
When the last creature fell, silence reclaimed the chamber.
He sank to his knees, pain radiating from his wounded arm.
Sylva knelt beside him, pressing a palm to the injury.
"The seed heals… but it has limits."
He grimaced, biting back a curse.
Eira's apparition faded, her final words lingering.
"The fracture's heart beats in you.
Protect it… or all is lost."
The chamber's shadows seemed to deepen, the city's sorrow pressing in.
He rose, determination hardening within him.
"I will protect this heart.
I will heal the fracture.
No matter the cost."
Lira's eyes met his, fierce and unwavering.
"Obviously."
Sylva roared. "Then we fight—together!"
Outside, the fracture pulsed above the city — a scar still bleeding light and shadow.
The battle was far from over. But beneath the city, a new strength was growing — the seed's heartbeat, steady and defiant.
End of Chapter 15.